The scallop shell, a symbol of the Camino, is found attached to the backpacks of most pilgrims. (Photo courtesy of the author)
“Hiking on the Camino can become addictive,” a pilgrim on the Camino de Santiago told a small group of us while we were having dinner together in an albergue (pilgrim inn) a few years ago. His words proved prophetic – I have done three Caminos and counting! I began my third pilgrimage on the Caminho Portugués in October 2023. I had missed the sound of my hiking poles touching the ground, the meeting up with other pilgrims as well as time alone for quiet reflection, and the visits to chapels, churches, and cathedrals along the way, but mostly I missed the feeling of just being on the Camino as so many others have done before.
Starting out on The Portuguese Way
The Caminho Portugués starts in Lisbon and continues to Porto, where the majority of pilgrims begin their journey. I headed out from there in October 2023, intending to go as far as I could depending on weather. The Caminho Portugués was my shortest hike, but no less meaningful than the other Caminos I have traveled. Having no set time limit, I lingered where I chose, taking time to simply enjoy being where I was, once again on the Pilgrim Way. Like so many other pilgrims, I visited the Igreja de Carmo, the 18th-century baroque church famous for its stunning blue murals on the exterior walls, among other historic places.
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The gift of humanity
About a week into my Portuguese Camino hike in the village of Tamelo, I was waiting for the albergue to open. A Belgian woman in her 40s sat across from me outside and told me that her 43-year-old athletic, healthy husband had died of esophageal cancer two years before. Her depression became so severe that she had to stop working. Her son, who had hiked the Portuguese Camino as a way of healing, suggested she do the same.
Sharing such stories with complete strangers is not unusual on the Camino. It seems to make us lower our defenses and laughter, love, caring, and sharing become the norm. Such conversations felt like gifts to me, gifts of people’s humanity and kindness.
The taxi angel
Not long after that conversation, the rain began overnight. Lacking the heartiness of some pilgrims, I found that hiking in the rain under a plastic poncho, which caused uncomfortably damp clothes, made it time for me to cheat a little. But it was Sunday in rural Portugal and no buses were running, so I called a taxi, using my Spanish in Portugal to explain where I was and where I wanted to go.
“Dez minutos,’’ I was told. Ten minutes. Ten minutes turned into 30. I called again. “Dos minutos,” I was told, two minutes, and right at two minutes, a well-worn black car pulled into the bus stop. I placed my small bag in the trunk, which was full of odds and ends and jumper cables. Strange that this was a taxi, I thought, but this was rural Portugal on a Sunday morning. The driver went north for about 20 minutes and then stopped at another rural bus stop.
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A Portuguese cyclist who spoke good English came by. I told him of my predicament, that I was trying to get to Punto do Lima. The driver then explained to the cyclist that he was, in fact, not a taxi driver but he could see I needed help, so he was just giving me a lift.
Just then, two Canadian hikers whom I had run into now and then on the Camino literally came out of the woods. When I explained what had happened, we all laughed, and then one of the hikers, Ken, said to me, “The Camino always gives.” The man in the black car was my taxi angel, I realized, another gift from the camino. The cyclist called a real taxi, I gave a very happy “Obrigado” (thank you) to the car angel, and the taxi driver took me to an albergue in Punto do Lima, where I spent a dry and comfortable night.
Arrival in Santiago de Compostela
After hiking for 10 days, I arrived in Santiago de Compostela and seeing the Cathedral of Saint James again was no less enthralling. I got in line to hug the statue of Saint James, a pilgrim tradition, and said a prayer of thanks for all of it. I received Communion with many other pilgrims from around the world. Seeing their faces with their looks of wonder, happiness, belief, disbelief – I don’t know which word best describes the look on their faces, so maybe all of them will have to do.
And then another gift — seeing the botafumeiro, the incense burner, so large and heavy that five priests are needed to lift it above the chancel and swing it, a sight which happens only infrequently. I looked in wonder and said another silent prayer of thanks.
A camino full of grace
Just a few months before my hike, my closest friend from high school passed away. I lit a candle for her before the altar of Saint James. That same night I dreamt about her as she was when we were growing up together. In the dream, we both knew she was still ill, but that dream was like having one more chance to see her well and laughing. Maybe that dream was yet another gift.
I will miss the pilgrims I met in Tamelo and others along the way, all on a pilgrimage for their own reasons so willingly shared. Friendship and affection grew easily among us, and it is doubtful I’ll ever see them again, but the Camino is like that. Angels come and go. “How many Caminos have you done?” is a familiar question among us pilgrims. This was my third Camino, but I’m sure there will be a fourth, and fifth – with arms open to receive the Camino’s grace.
